My mother asked me this past weekend if I’d like any houseplants. I politely declined, because despite my ability to grow a mean garden, greenery does not fare well within my humble abode. Apparently, my capacity for keeping things alive inside the house only has three available openings. Pre-child, this was:
Now that my son is around, the plants have been bumped off the list:
Incidentally, the dog is really glad that we’re apparently unable to have any more kids.
My mother’s response when I told her I had trouble keeping houseplants alive was, “Well, it is pretty dark in your house”. Which made me stop and think, because actually, it isn’t all that dark in my house. It’s KEPT quite dark, because due to Alfred’s shift work and my the kid’s nap schedule there seems to be someone trying to sleep at any given moment. But the house itself can be airy and bright, given the opportunity. I’m just too lazy to be opening and closing the blinds all the damn time.
So, as attractive as my chocolate brown brocade drapes are*, I came home and made an elaborate show of swooshing them back and letting the sun shine in.
I realized two things:
1) Holy shit, it’s spring.
2) My windows are probably half the reason it’s dark in here. There is a blur of dog-snot trails across the bottom 2 feet of glass.
We enjoyed our 5 minutes in the sun. Then it was grey and snowed for 3 days.
*Actually more attractive than that makes them sound, thankyouverymuch.